


Oh Snow You Don't

by Kodalinx



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Christmas, Established Relationship, Ficmas, Fluff, M/M, Prompmas, Snowball Fight, christmas tree hunting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-12 23:41:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21484762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kodalinx/pseuds/Kodalinx
Summary: Jean spoke slowly. “Marco,” he warned. “Do not throw that snowball.”Each word was punctuated by the cold breath that escaped him as he spoke. Marco kept his eyes wide, his lashes almost fluttering.“What snowball, Jean?” He asked sweetly.
Relationships: Marco Bott & Jean Kirstein, Marco Bott/Jean Kirstein, jeanmarco - Relationship
Comments: 4
Kudos: 26





	Oh Snow You Don't

**Author's Note:**

> It's Day 2 of Promptmas/ficmas and I'm using the dialogue prompt "Do not throw that snowball."  
By @spiderman-comeme on Tumblr.
> 
> Hope you enjoy :)

Marco blew harshly into his gloved hands before rubbing them together. No matter whether he had been chopping away at the tree or stood to one side with his hands tucked into his pockets, his hands felt just as cold and numb as if he had buried them bare in the snow. Sliding them inside his long, beige coat, he tucked them under his armpits. No doubt, Jean was feeling the cold too, but with coats, hats, gloves, and scarfs all being used to shield them from the harsh weather, they were willing to risk the cold for a few hours.

Jean stood, hunched over next to a large fir tree, axe in hand, swinging away. He puffed as he took another whack at the trunk. They had been making slow progress, but knew they were nearing the end when the tree had abruptly jerked to one side. Picking up one foot, Jean place it right above the line where they had been hacking and tested the resistance with a few quick sharp flexes.

Finally, after all their hard work, the two boys heard the satisfying muffled thump as the tree crashed down against the soft blanket of snow. The tree was roughly 6ft high, stretching just a little taller than Marco. Its branches were thin but full of dark green, spiny leaves that fanned out, creating a thick, bushy Christmas tree.

“There you go, Marco,” Jean grinned. “One perfectly good Christmas tree.”

Marco beamed back. Neither of them had ever cut down their own Christmas tree before, but now that they finally had a place together, Marco had thought the idea would be much more active than walking around a store bustling with too many people. Here, they were away from anything, in a large, open wooded area. They had drove for no more than 30 minutes to reach the outside of the small city they lived in and hadn’t explored too far into the woods before they spotted a tree that was perfect.

However, their next challenge of cutting it down with just an axe and no experience had proved harder than they had predicted. It had been freezing cold despite the many layers they had wrapped themselves in, and once they had started, they realised it would take a while to progress through even this thinner tree trunk. Fortunately, they were able to take turns in the effort, which proved necessary. Their persistence rewarded them though and after basking in the success, Jean decided to march the axe back to the truck by himself and make sure the back was ready to tie the tree into.

Jean had only made it a few metres away from Marco when he felt the sudden impact of something burst against his back. His body jerked to a standstill. Turning back, he saw Marco, stood in the same position, staring down at the fallen tree. Jean’s brow furrowed, his hand patting the parts of his back that he could reach. He felt the cold and damp against the surface of his coat. Narrowing his eyes at Marco, he slowly turned back away and took a few more steps.

Again, Jean was interrupted as another force collided with his back. And yet, this time, he felt cold flecks of snow splatter up onto the nape of his neck, trailing down his spine. His body tensed, his shoulders hunching up in a useless effort to stop the shiver that inevitably racked his body. He flipped back around, his eyes locking onto Marco’s.

Now, Marco stood, his body facing Jean’s, an innocent smile adorning his freckled face. Jean wasn’t falling it for it; he knew Marco too well to be fooled by those wide eyes and sweet smile. His eyes trailed down Marco’s body, fixing onto the spot where the boy’s hands were hidden, not so subtly, behind his back.

Meeting his eyes again, Jean spoke slowly. “Marco,” he warned. “Do _not _throw that snowball.”

Each word was punctuated by the cold breath that escaped him as he spoke. Marco kept his eyes wide, his lashes almost fluttering.

“What snowball, Jean?” He asked sweetly.

A silence passed between them, drawing out as they stood at a standstill.

Jean moved first, tossing the axe down to one side and darting for cover. From the corner of his eye, he caught Marco’s delayed reaction, the other boy’s hand shooting out from behind his back. Jean ignored the potential threat, his eyes locked on the nearest tree as he sprinted for it. A snowball sailed past him, landing at his feet and falling apart. He heard the accompanied curse and knew he had escaped the attack.

Ducking down behind his newfound cover, he made quick work of gathering snow together and crushing it adeptly into small, round balls. It was a battle of speed. _How much ammunition could he afford to make before Marco raided his hiding place? _The two boys worked frantically, arming themselves with several ready-made attacks.

Jean jumped back out, a snowball in each hand, ready to launch his attack. The smirk was wiped from his face when he found himself facing an abandoned spot, the fallen tree laying alone in the open. If only Jean had thought to hide again.

Marco leapt out from Jean’s left, ambushing the boy with a rapid assault. Jean felt the freezing snow explode against the skin of his cheek, spraying out across his face. He swiped the cold away furiously, his eyes flicking to Marco’s. Marco’s unashamed laugh was the final taunt.

Jean launched a snowball in his direction without any real aim. Marco dove back behind cover, though this time, Jean knew exactly where he was. Jean kept his eyes glued to the area, scooping up another snowball from his stash.

Sneaking over, Jean held his arm up, poised and ready to hurl right onto his trapped boyfriend. Instinctively, he bounded left, leaping around the tree and springing down beside Marco. Jean pitched a shot that crashed against Marco’s torso, jerking the other boy into action. Marco instantly, lobbed two low shots, one that caught Jean’s leg and the other that managed his stomach.

Jean’s initial plans may have failed him, but somehow it had worked out. Marco scurried back, preparing for round 3 when Jean pounced on him, wrestling his arms away from the snow. The pair battled in strength but ultimately Jean managed to sit his weight on Marco’s stomach, pinning him in place. With Jean’s knees and Marco’s back planted firmly in the snow the two boys should have been shivering. And yet their battle had given them a willing distraction from the weather. Even now, the sweet power of revenge was spurring Jean on.

“Say you’re sorry, Marco, or you’re getting snowballed!” Jean threatened, his final snowball held up in warning.

“Nooooo,” Marco laughed, his body squirming under Jean’s weight. His hands batted strategically towards Jean’s last snowball, unsuccessfully attempting to disarm him.

“I don’t make the rules, Marco. It has to be done,” Jean shrugged, unable to hide the smirk that tugged at his lips.

“Okay! Okay!” Marco giggled, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “I’m sorry!”

Marco’s gloves were damp and patchy with snow. Jean was bet his own gloves probably looked just as bad. He found his grip on the snowball ease, but he wasn’t quite ready to give it up yet.

“How sorry?” He pressed.

A wicked glint shone in Marco’s eyes.

“I’m super, super sorry for pounding you with many, many good snowball shots, Jean,” Marco teased, sticking his tongue out past his blue-tinted lips.

Jean clicked his tongue, releasing the snowball in spite of the tempting alternatively of smushing it against Marco’s face. Wiping his hands off on his coat, he stood up and then offered his gloved hands out to Marco, who took them and hitched himself back onto his feet. Marco’s smile was contagious, and Jean had lost any hope of pretending to be mad. He grinned back, a chuckle escaping him.

“Come on, dummy,” Jean said, grasping Marco’s hand and tugging him along. “Let’s go get our tree.”

With their hands clasped, they strolled back over to the fallen tree. Jean ran and grabbed the axe, then met back with Marco to help in picking up the tree. Stepping forward, Marco grabbed the top of the tree, his hands weaving through the spiny leaves and small outstretched branches to grab near the middle. Jean grabbed the base, hooking his arm under it and together they lifted. They walked the tree back the way they had come and towards their truck.

Once there, they managed to wrestle the tree onto the back of the truck and then tied it down tight for safety. Thankfully, it fit perfectly fine and seemed stable enough to drive with. The pair trailed back around to the front of the truck and hopped inside. Jean started the engine, hearing the truck roar back to life, while Marco wasted no time in making sure to twist the heating up to full. As they set off back home, tree and memory with them, they warmed up and prepared for their next battle – getting the tree into the house and decorating it with the array of lights, tinsel, and baubles they had.


End file.
